


Don't Know What For

by ama



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Muslim Character, F/F, Jewish Character, Lesbian Character, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5698354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/pseuds/ama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darlene reflects on Trenton's morning prayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Know What For

**Author's Note:**

> tbh, I have no idea whether the Aldersons are supposed to be Jewish or Muslim or Arab or South Asian or whatever. The show hasn’t really offered a clear position, and the actors are all from totally different backgrounds: Rami Malek is from a Christian Egyptian family, Carly Chaikin is Jewish, I believe the actor playing young Elliot is also Jewish, and the actress playing their mother is Indian and, in-character, appears to be wearing an abaya in some scenes (which I think would indicate she’s Muslim?). Christian Slater is white and Christian. So I’m just going to call them a lapsed interfaith Jewish-Muslim family and be done with it.

Technically, Darlene's mother was Muslim.

She always thinks about it like that. "Technically." In some ways, her mother was undoubtedly open about her background. She made them gulab jamun on Eid, and had worn an abaya when her husband was alive, and there seemed to be an evil eye charm in every drawer of the house. Yet Darlene never saw her pray. She never fasted for Ramadan. She drank alcohol. Darlene herself was never taught Arabic or taken to a mosque, and never even saw a Quran until she stumbled across one in her high school library.

Along the same line, technically, her father was Jewish, but the only thing he seemed to have gotten from this heritage was a very Bundist attitude towards American capitalism. Their household was explosive, but never particularly Jewish or Muslim--and, as far as she can recall, the division had never factored in to the frequent arguments, either, except for that one time that her father, in a fit of pique, had brought bacon home with the week's groceries. Her mother had sworn at him, but ended up cooking it before it could go bad, because they couldn't afford to throw $7 worth of perfectly good food in the trash. Darlene was eight and Elliot six, and that was the first time they had ever had pork; Elliot liked it, Darlene didn't.

But she wouldn't call that a religious experience. She wouldn't call herself a religious person, and she doesn't really care about any of that crap, so she is hard-pressed to characterize the emotion she feels as she watches Trenton bend her graceful neck and intone prayers to the carpet. It does not make her think of her mother. Trenton is too quiet, the tone of her voice too steady. Darlene can't figure her out. It bugs her a little--the fact that she's known Trenton for months and doesn't quite understand her. She is a hacker, she likes to break into things and she likes to know how they work, and though she can understand bits and pieces of Trenton, the whole still puzzles her.

She is shy around people but she doesn't retreat from them. She is practical, but sentimental. She isn't mean, but she can be vicious if she wants to. And she doesn't chafe against rules, but she's here, participating in a highly illegal hacking conspiracy.

Darlene watches her, head tilted, as Trenton stands and continues to pray in a low, canting voice. She's heard snatches of Arabic before, as she walks past people gossiping in front of markets or calling to friends across the streets, but not like this. She likes the sound of it; it flows, but there are stops in it, bumps that make her think of a child fluidly tumbling over and over. She likes Trenton's voice. And now, with nothing distracting her, she takes a moment to think that Trenton really is pretty. She's thought that before, but it used to be in a what-a-waste kind of way way. She was pretty, but she'd be even prettier if she bright colors every once in a while, damn. Or lipstick, or clothes that didn't cover every inch of her, or if she didn't wear that scarf _all_ the time. Darlene looks at her now, the solemn lines of her face, and thinks that maybe she had been kind of a dick.

Then Trenton bows again, placing her hands on the floor with both the stiff formality of ritual and the ease of long practice, and Darlene realizes why it looks so familiar.

She thinks of her grandmother. She had lived in Florida, and they didn't see her much, but her grandmother had flown up for her father's funeral. She remembers Bubbe stayed with them for almost two weeks, to help, and had struck her as being kind of crazy. She had covered all the mirrors of the house and wouldn't sit on the couch, only the footstools, and took her shoes off, and sobbed openly in front of people. It made Darlene's mother uncomfortable. It made everyone uncomfortable.

Then, at the end of the week, she had got up and cleaned the house top to bottom and made chicken soup and set two candles at the table. She made Elliot and Darlene stand by her side as she lit them, and moved her hands in that same formal way, in slow circles above the lit wicks before she covered her eyes.

Darlene had never known why, and she still thought her grandmother must be a little crazy, but she had liked the candles, and she liked sitting down at the kitchen table and having a real meal, and she had noticed that Bubbe was different after the candles were lit. She sniffled a bit, but didn't sob anymore, and she smiled, and looked almost peaceful.

Trenton looks peaceful, too. Not in a hippie enlightenment crap kind of way, but like she's confident. Like she knows who she is and where she is. She sits on her rug and lets out a slow, quiet sigh. There is a tiny smile on her lips, and Darlene's heart unexpectedly jumps into her throat. She swallows, and Trenton looks over at her. She doesn't say anything, just raises her eyebrows.

Darlene feels, vaguely, that she has missed out on something.

"Hey," she says slowly. "Do you... want to go get a coffee? Before your classes start?"

She doesn't believe in missing out.


End file.
